


Zombie Pigeons; or, A Step Too Far

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Series: Karen Page, Pigeon Photographer [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Photographs, Photography, Pigeons, Prompt Fic, Women Being Awesome, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen knew it was going to be a long day when the second zombie pigeon lumbered around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombie Pigeons; or, A Step Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written for [shinyrock6498](http://shinyrock6498.tumblr.com), in response to a meme where prompters left the first sentence of a fic in my [Tumblr askbox](http://edenfalling.tumblr.com/ask) and I wrote the next five. (Or the next eighteen, as the case may be. *sigh*) It's also tangentially related to [A Moral Decision in One Eighth of a Second](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4369481) and [Testify to Time's Relentless Melt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5419205), wherein we learn that Karen has a habit of photographing dead pigeons.

Karen knew it was going to be a long day when the second zombie pigeon lumbered around the corner.

One slightly decaying pigeon that had apparently forgotten how to fly might have been-- been food poisoning, or brain cancer, or infection after a nasty cat attack, or at least something vaguely in the vicinity of semi-rational. But two? No. That officially moved the encounter into the realm of Weird Shit, which seemed to be New York's stock in trade these days.

And now the pair of pigeons were bobbing toward Karen with disturbingly intent gleams in their half-rotten eyes. She considered simply making a run for it -- she had her sneakers and jogging clothes on, after all -- but no, that wouldn't be fair to the next person who stepped out of her building. Pigeon beaks and claws were awfully pointy for non-predatory birds, and she didn't like the thought of them pecking some hapless human's legs. She'd read somewhere that most bird viruses couldn't jump to humans, but who knew if that rule applied to zombies?

She pulled out her little keychain mace container and aimed it toward the pigeons. Then she swore and tucked it away again. Zombies might not breathe, after all, and she needed to take them out fast, not piss them off and give them a second chance to attack. Instead, Karen grabbed the lid off a nearby trashcan (fucking trucks were late _again_ ; she bet Foggy was writing a scathing letter to the _Bulletin_ this very moment) and smashed the unnatural little vermin into foul-smelling paste, bones, feathers, and all.

Breathing heavily, she pulled out her phone and texted Matt and Foggy to meet her at the office. Yes, it was sunrise on a Saturday. No, she didn't care. Whatever the hell was going on, they had a better chance of surviving if they all three stuck together.

(The two photos she snapped of the zombie pigeon remains were good evidence-gathering, nothing more. That was her story and she was sticking to it, no matter how much Foggy rolled his eyes.)


End file.
